Halfway Around the World
by playergurl89
Summary: Team One travels to a faraway land to extradite a criminal and a bewildered  and engaged  Jules Callaghan ends up being left behind in Sam Braddock's strong, capable hands. Begins Prior to Sam joining Team One.
1. Upside Down

_**A/N:** I was working on the next chapter of** Crossing the Divide** when I had an idea that kind of came out of left-field...what if Team One had already been somewhat aquaintanted with Sam Braddock before he ever joined the team? What if Rolie's promotion hadn't been soley on his own merit (even though I'm sure he **did** deserve it)? Once I started thinking along this vein, I had to write something and get some of it out of my head, so here goes!_

"**Sarge…I'm starting to think we were duped here," **Jules remarked, squinting into the sandy horizon that stretched before the transporting Humvee that carried SRU Team One forward. If this assignment were somewhere tropical like Fiji, she was willing to bet they never would have even heard about it until after the fact. Instead, they'd been 'nominated' for the dubious honor of travelling into a civil warzone to extradite a stowaway who got flagged as a murderer…and who managed to land himself in a jail cell in Kandahar. The current field trip into the city was to check on the prisoner and make sure he was being treated properly while he was in the custody of foreign authorities.

Rolie reached across Ed to flick the bill of Jules's baseball cap so it tilted down over her eyes. "Way to state the obvious," he teased.

"Sarge!"

"C'mon, Boss, did you have to let me get stuck sitting between the kids?" Ed lamented, giving Rolie a shove and Jules's ponytail a light tug.

"Play nice over there," Greg ordered from the row opposite of them.

Beside Greg, Wordy smirked. "Are you kidding, Boss? Like that's going to happen. Rolie's bored…"

"That doesn't mean he gets to pick on me," Jules protested.

"You mean like you don't pick on the rest of us any other day of the week?" Lew chimed in, earning himself a booted kick in the shins. "Ow! Boss?"

"All right!"

Looking like she wanted to laugh, Jules turned her attention back to the window and the bland view beyond it. Steve, her fiancé, probably would have found some redeeming quality in it. Maybe the sky was a clear brilliant blue. Too bad that she was wishing for a cloud or two to alleviate some of the dry heat that was going to give her sunburn…

"You know, obvious or not, she has a point. Even if I think the proper term is scapegoated as opposed to duped…duped implies we had a say in the matter," Spike pointed out, slipping his sunglasses on as the wind picked up and blew more sand into their already dusty transport. "Geeze, it feels like I'm sitting in an exfoliation chamber, here!"

Greg scoffed. "If you think this is bad…"

The explosion was so sudden that the split second they had to register it wasn't enough to escape it.

* * *

><p><strong>Sam clenched his jaw tight against the need to yawn <strong>because he knew opening his mouth right then would have him choking on flying sand. Especially when he was manning the gunner's turret. It was just that time of the day. He was riding in the Humvee behind the transport carrying the SRU team, providing part of the escort. It wasn't the type of task he volunteered for often, but his unit had some downtime and he and a friend had been heading into town anyway, so it wasn't like that errand took them out of their way. Plus he got to sneak a peek or two at the tiny firecracker he'd heard somebody refer to as Jules. She was interesting. Witty as hell. Oh yeah, and pretty. Well, pretty was an understatement. More like hot. But what did he know? It'd been how long since he'd had a chance to enjoy the company of a woman? Too long, was the grim answer to that question. He chalked his interest up to horniness, but that didn't stop him from eyeing her. There was no harm in looking.

"Hey, Braddock?" Matt hollered to be heard from inside.

"Yeah?" Sam hollered back.

"The neurosurgeon on base scored us a TV for the hockey game tonight. You down?"

"Hell, yeah, I'm down!" The two friends might not have been friends all their lives, but out there, virtually cut off from everything they'd ever known, they were each other's best friend. Ever since they'd both found their way into JTF2.

Sam was looking straight ahead when the transport in front of them hit an IED and went half-flying half-tumbling into a half-ruined heap. He braced himself for the sudden stop, then clambered out of the turret and ran to where the transport rested on its side as the other Humvee up ahead pulled to a stop.

A battered-looking Spike stumbled out from under the flap that was obstructing Sam's view of the interior, followed by Lew, both were looking a little dazed. In a hurry to finish evacuation of the vehicle and, if he was honest, check up on the spitfire known as Jules, Sam lifted the flap to peer into the back. Wordy and Rolie were supporting Ed, who seemed to have a broken leg, between them. Greg was trying to coax a response out of Jules, who was unconscious. Sam read the scene in an instant before urging them all to move and get out of the transport. He stooped down, wrapping his arms around the bulky vest the petite brunette wore and lifted, leaving Greg to carry her legs and they all evacuated. He looked at Matt, who confirmed the dead driver and navigator, and shook his head before setting Jules down a safe distance away from the overturned transport, closer to his own transportation.

Now, he took a moment to study her properly under the convenient excuse of checking her over and found himself surprised by how lovely she really was close-up with her features in repose. He was positive she was even prettier when she was awake and smiling. Or, even better, laughing. He'd bet money she had a great, totally infectious, laugh. That was saying something considering he normally wasn't one to bet on speculation. His gaze slid below her neck to her chest…and narrowed until his blue eyes were barely visible slits. "I don't think she's breathing." He said the words even as he started removing her vest.

"What do you mean she's not breathing?" Greg demanded even as he helped.

"What I said," Sam snapped. "Okay, not breathing properly," he amended once he could see her chest hitching slightly. "How long until we get another transport out here?" Sam shouted over to Matt.

"Half an hour at least."

"Too long," Sam decided. "I'm taking her back to base now. You guys want to put your friend in the back?" he asked Rolie and Wordy, both of who looked at Ed, who nodded. That way he could keep an eye on Jules. The three of them got in the Humvee with Sam telling himself he _didn't _care what happened to the group. It was just his job to make sure that if anything stopped them from leaving Kandahar, it didn't happen on his watch.

* * *

><p><strong>Ed had indeed broken his leg <strong>and had to get it re-set. Jules's lungs had both collapsed amongst other maladies, the chief of which was swelling in the brain that made the doctors wary of moving her immediately, although they mentioned the possibility of an airlift to Germany as early as the next day.

Unfortunately, that didn't work with the team's timeline. Greg had forced the rest of Team One to soldier on to Kandahar where they discovered things were ahead of schedule and ended up bringing the prisoner back to the base with them. Commander Holleran wanted him on Canadian soil ASAP before he could try filing _another _appeal to stall the process, but nobody wanted to leave Jules behind.

"I could keep an eye on her, see that she gets home okay," Sam found himself offering.


	2. I Want It That Way

**Sam's suggestion wrought** even _more_ protestations from the team.

"Why would we leave her with you?" Rolie demanded.

"We don't even _know _you," Ed practically bellowed.

"Man, get out of here," Wordy dismissed.

"Are you nuts?" Lew wanted to know.

"Jules would _never _let this guy babysit her," Spike predicted.

Remarks similar to these flew back and forth until Greg decided enough was enough and that it was time to corral his team. "Guys! _Guys_! We can't just stay here with her, we've got a job to do," he pointed out even though he was loathing the idea of having to leave Jules behind himself. "You…uh…" he tried to place a name on the blond-haired soldier.

"Sam Braddock," Sam supplied.

"Braddock. You swear you'll see her on a plane on her way back to Canada?"

"Yes, Sir, I do," he promised.

"Fine. Next flight out, we're heading home," Greg said firmly, eyeing every man on his team before turning his attention back to Sam. "This better not be a mistake or so help me…"

"I swear…I'll put her on a plane heading home as soon as possible."

This statement got a few chuckles out of Spike and Lew. Even the others traded amused glances, Sam observed, wondering what had brought about the lightened mood. It was over quickly, and they all went back to glaring at him as Greg said in a no-nonsense tone of voice, "Just make sure she gets home."

The men marched past him to check on their friend, and Matt stepped forward to talk to his. "Uh…_what _did you just get yourself into?"

"No clue, man, no clue," Sam responded apprehensively.

* * *

><p><strong>When Jules woke <strong>in the weehours of the morning, the overhead lights of the ICU were off, but the bedside lamps beside the beds were on. She took in the unfamiliar, almost alien, surroundings and panicked a little because she had no idea where she was. She didn't even realize there was a hand on hers until it tightened when she shifted. She eyed the hand, then followed it up to the face of its owner, who was sleeping with his head propped up on his other palm, which in turn was supported by the elbow resting on the bed. She blinked at him for a moment, taking in his handsome features for a moment before she shouted, "Who the hell are you?"

He was on his feet in an instant and, somewhere in the back of her mind, she had to grudgingly admire his reflexes. "You're awake."

"I think all of Kandahar could attest to that," a British-accented male voice remarked dryly as he entered the ward. "If you could kindly refrain from yelling, I'd like to examine you. Do you know where you are?"

"No," Jules responded forcefully out of wariness.

"NATO Role 3 Medical Unit at Kandahar Airfield…your transport rolled over an IED."

Watching her face, Sam could see the moment when she registered the full meaning of what the doctor was telling her. It was when her expression settled into one of abject horror. "My team…"

"Fine, more or less. Two deaths, though. _Not _them," he hastened to add. "They were both stationed here."

"Where are they?" Jules demanded. "My team."

Here, Sam decided to step in. "They had to take the prisoner you guys came for back to Toronto. None of their injuries precluded travel."

"Oh." A mask slid over her expression, but not before Sam caught there there-and-gone look in her eyes that seemed to say, _"They really just left me here?" _He decided not to acknowledge it because he was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate knowing someone had witnessed a chink in her armor before she could cover it up.

"Let's get down to business, shall we? I'm Dr. Simon Hill, the neurosurgeon on staff—"

"Neurosurgeon? I had _surgery _on my head?" Jules demanded, her hand immediately flying to her head in search of evidence.

"No, and I don't think you'll need it if you keep responding to medication the way you are. Rather resilient little chit, aren't you?" Dr. Hill remarked.

Jules's eyes darkened in annoyance at his condescending tone. Sam suggested, "Maybe you should just get the exam over with." He didn't think the doctor's presence was good for her blood pressure, and he didn't want to have to explain to her team why her transfer out of Afghanistan was delayed.

"Right, let's do that."

Sam stepped back into the shadows to give them some semblance of privacy even as he wondered why he didn't just go sleep in the bed he rarely got an opportunity to sleep in. Matt had point out his odd behavior earlier when he' barely paid attention to the game they'd watched thanks to this very doctor. His mind had been on Jules, wondering if she'd wake up fearful and confused…if she'd need him. Which logic said she wouldn't seeing as she didn't even know him, and yet…he'd ended up keeping watch over her anyway. Rationalizing that he'd offered to look out for her and he wasn't one to half-ass any task he took on.

Simon left after declaring she was stable enough for travel, and Sam sat back down.

"You—"

"Sam."

"—tell me everything," Jules ordered as if he hadn't interrupted. Sam complied, telling her what happened. His voice was even and remained steady when he mentioned the deaths, but Jules saw past that. "You knew them. The men who died. Who were they?"

Wondering why she cared, he said anyway, "Cal Jones and Vernon Parsons. Cal was supposed to go home to the states next week."

"I'm sorry." She sounded like she meant it and he gave a curt nod.

"You should get some rest. Night."

"Goodnight," she responded softly as he quickly made his exit.

* * *

><p><strong>The next morning <strong>Jules was pleased to learn there was a flight to Landstuhl, Germany scheduled for that night and that she was going to be on it. It put her one step closer to heading home and back to work. She wanted to call and touch bases with her team, as well as Steve, but she learned that phones for long-distance calls weren't that easy to come by. The hospital's satellite phone was reserved for official use and the payphone located down the road usually had a line so long she wasn't likely to get a turn before it was time to go…if she'd even have been allowed to make the trek. Not that she didn't try. She tried. She just didn't get far before the head nurse caught her and put her back in the bed.

She was still seething when Sam sauntered in with a chess set tucked under his arm around noon. He'd spent the morning calling in favors to secure permission for him to take a little personal leave so he could follow her to Germany. "I hear you're trying to give the staff fits," he remarked, sitting down and setting up the board.

"Well, if they'd be a little more cooperative, we wouldn't have much of an issue," she countered. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Getting ready to play chess against yourself."

Sam scoffed. "What? You got something better to do?"

"Don't you?" she retorted.

"Not really. You want to play or not?"

She glared at him, then made the first move. "Why are you spending so much time with me?"

"I told your team I'd keep an eye on you," he replied, eyes glued intently to the board as he decided on a strategy and moved one of his pieces forward.

"You didn't need to do that. I don't need a babysitter," she informed him irritably.

"Never said you did," he muttered, eyes still glued to the board.

"It was implied," Jules insisted, intent on having the last word. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Sam Braddock."

"No, I mean what do you do out here?"

His eyes flicked up to glance at her momentarily before returning to the board. "Special forces. JTF2."

"Impressive," she acknowledged as she took his queen. She grinned at his immediate frown. He stared at the faint dimple in her cheek. "What?"

"How the hell did you do that?"

She smirked. "If you weren't just thinking _tactical_ and paying attention to _me_, who might be as good as I am."

"You do that a lot, don't you? Paying attention to people."

"It's part of my job. If we didn't look at the humanity in subjects and find a place where we can empathize with them, we wouldn't be SRU."

"Does a person's humanity matter after he pulls out a gun and shoots somebody in cold blood?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. It does. Game's not over, yet, Braddock. Make your move."

After she finished beating him, Sam declared, "Next time, you are so going down."

"There won't _be_ a next time. I'm leaving soon."

"So am I."

Jules frowned. "With me?"

Sam nodded.

Jules shook her head. "I told you, I don't need a babysitter!"

"And I told your team I'd make sure you got home okay. Besides, I had some leave coming," he lied.

"Bull! You…I don't need you following me around!"

"Maybe I just want to go to Germany."

"Yeah, right." She gave him a scathing look.

"You always need to get the last word in, don't you?" Sam shook his head. God she was stubborn. "Look, you're a woman…" He pressed on when she started sputtering angrily, "...and you're recovering from some serious injuries."

"I'm not some china doll. If I didn't want to pull my stitches, I'd kick your ass!"

He looked like he wanted to laugh. "Yeah, okay. I'm sure you'd _like _to…"

"I could."

"…but I'm still going with you. You're stuck with me until you're back on Canadian soil, which will be what? A few more days?"

* * *

><p>"<strong>Really, Sarge? A month?" <strong>Jules asked to make sure. She was settled in at Landstuhl Medical Center and the first call she'd made was to Greg, who had informed her that Team One was being forced to take some time off after what happened and that they were going back to work in a month.

"It'll give everybody some time to heal," Greg reasoned, even though he didn't sound too happy about it either.

"I don't need time, I'm ready now!"

Unnoticed or unacknowledged, he wasn't sure which one, Sam scoffed from the spot on the wall he was leaning against. Jules tossed him a withering glare. He stuck his tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes and looked away before he could make her laugh.

"Famous last words. Prove it in a month and you'll be my Sierra One. Eddie's leg is going to take a while to heal."

Jules let out a silent '_Yes!' _before asking, "Who'd run tactical?"

"Rolie, of course. Listen, Jules, I know you said you don't need to recover…" She could practically hear him rolling his eyes over her boast. "…please do yourself a favor and relax. Don't push yourself too hard."

"You got it, Sarge. Bye. Oh! Sarge? Hang on!"

"Yeah, Jules? I'm still here."

"About Sam Braddock…"

"Jules…"

"Sarge… Tell him to go home. Or back to the desert, whatever. Just away from me."

"It would set our minds at ease if you…"

Her groan drowned out the rest of his sentence. "No way, Sarge, I don't need him!"

"I know you don't, but…"

"Never mind…I'll see you when I get back." She could practically feel one of those megawatt grins on the back of her neck. "I need to call my fiancé, do you mind?"

"Nope."

She looked at him pointedly. "Go away."

"Oh, you mean you wanted privacy? Why didn't you just say so?" He didn't know why he got such a kick out of provoking her, but he did. He decided to go find something to eat while she made her call since he wasn't particularly eager to hear her whisper sweet nothings in some faceless (for him, at least) guy's ear.

She waited for him to leave before dialing Steve's number. "Steve, hey. It's me."

"Jules, thank God. Do you know how worried I was about you?"

"I can imagine. I just wanted to let you know I'm okay. I'm at Landstuhl now and I'm sure I'll be ready to head home in a few days. I have some time off. Maybe we can get away for a little while." It was either that or press on with renovations on the house. She wanted to get it done before they got married so she really should do the latter, but it was going to take some manual labor and she _could _do with a _little _R&R.

"Sorry, Sweetheart, I can't right now. Remember, I'm saving up my time off for the honeymoon. Speaking of which, this isn't going to interfere with that, is it?"

"No, I don't think so. I'll check with my boss when I get back. I really don't have a choice, though. They took my team off rotation for a month."

"We'll work it out. And hey…if you're feeling up to it, do a little sight-seeing while you're there. Check out the castle. I'm pretty sure Frankfurt isn't that far from Landstuhl. You know you're just going to come home and work on the house, so you might as well stop to smell the roses first."

Jules smiled slightly. He knew her so well. It came with the package when you got engaged to your high school sweetheart. "I'll think about it. Bye."

"Love you."

"Me, too."


	3. Between Two Points

**A/N: Forgot to say this last time, but thanks for the warm reception!**

** I own neither Flashpoint nor the characters of Flashpoint. If I did, there would be a new episode every night of the year with no hiatuses or fears of cancellation...**

**As it turned out,** Jules didn't need much time at all to come to a decision. When Sam returned with a couple of burgers, Jules informed him, "You're free to go. _I'm_ going on vacation. Gonna smell the…whatever people smell when they're taking it easy because it sure as hell ain't roses."

"Where are you headed?"

"Frankfurt, I guess. It's one of Toronto's sister cities, you know," Jules informed him.

"What a coincidence…" he began nonchalantly.

Jules narrowed her eyes. "You know, Braddock, you're really starting to tick me off."

"Really? Only just starting? I think I'd _really _hate to see you in a bad mood."

"I know how you can avoid that _completely_. Go away. Problem solved," Jules offered with a brief, insincere smile.

"Then I'd miss the presence of your sparkling personality." The smile he flashed her was real.

Jules stared at him, and then shook her head. "You are really just…_ that _unhappy with your life, aren't you?"

Sam's grin evaporated. "How do you figure? I mean, you're wrong, but how do you figure?"

"Well why else would you be so damn interested in creeping your way into mine?"

"I am not _creeping_ my way into your life, I'm…"

"Keeping an eye on me for Sarge and the guys. Yeah, I caught that part, but I'm not buying it. You don't know them, you don't know me…"

He shrugged. "I keep my promises."

"Nobody's that altruistic. You're getting _something_ out of this. What is it? Hoping to get in my pants? It's not happening. I'm engaged," she reminded him.

"If you think this is me trying to seduce you, then your fiancé's technique must need some work."

Jules felt her face flush. "Then what do you _want_?"

"_Nothing_."

"Then whatever benefit you're getting is psychological, which is a shame because I'm not interested in playing the damsel-in-distress in your knight-in-shining-armor scenario. Go get your kicks somewhere else."

"Jules."

"Braddock."

"Will you at least try to be logical about this? Say I leave you alone, like you want me to. Alone and _abroad_. And not yet at the point where I can dare you to _prove _you can literally kick my ass. And, frankly, more than a little attractive. How long would it take for you to disappear compared to how long it would take for anyone to even _wonder _if something might have happened to you?"

Her gaze narrowed, but she didn't let a caustic remark roll off her tongue so he was hopeful that she was thinking about relenting. "Okay," she said finally, "but I have rules."

"Okay…" he said cautiously.

"First and foremost, you aren't the boss of me. In fact, if anybody's in charge, it's me. This is my vacation, you're just hijacking it to hide out from reality." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to protest. "Yeah, sure, you're just living it up in the dustbowl. Next rule… I'm not buying you as much as a cup of coffee and I'd prefer it if you kept your money to yourself, too. It's just better if we keep the line in the sand nice and clear. And to that end, no staring at my boobs or my ass or…you know, it'd probably be best if you just my shoulders the cut-off point…"

"Whoa…getting a little mandate-happy aren't we? Let me sum it all up for you…I just do what I originally intended, keep an eye on you, until you go home. See how much more direct and to-the-point that was?"

She speared him with a look that asked _'Do you really want to survive this trip?'_

"I suppose another one of your little caveats was gonna be that you're always right, huh?"

"You catch on fast, Braddock. No wonder you made it to the JTF2."

He scoffed. "Rest up, Jules."

"_You_ rest up, Braddock," Jules warned.

* * *

><p><strong>A few days later, <strong>Jules decided she was ready to get a move on and leave the hospital. She felt restless and needed to get active before her muscles atrophied.

Sam laughed at her when she voiced her concern. "I don't think a week in bed would do you irreparable damage."

"Well, Dr. Braddock, I don't remember coming to you for a consult," she responded, gingerly lifting her bag.

"Want me to get that for you?" Sam offered.

"Nope, I got it."

Shrugging, he fell into step behind her after she brushed past him. "If you say so."

"I do say so."

"And what you say goes."

"Yeah, what I say goes," she agreed, not trying to hide her amusement since he couldn't see her smile.

He could hear it in her voice, though, and smiled in response to it. "You'll be pleased to hear that the train ride will only last a couple hours."

"I am," she confirmed as they made their way outside to the waiting taxi.

He took her bag without asking because he knew she wouldn't hand it over if he asked, then opened the door for her and went to put their stuff in the trunk. She rolled her eyes and slid into the taxi. There was no point fighting over something as petty as who put bags in the trunk, even if she could have done it herself. She _did _protest to him grabbing both of their bags at the train station, though. "I'm not an invalid!"

"Didn't say you were," Sam denied as he walked up to the window to request two tickets for the next train to Frankfurt.

"We're paying for those _separately_," Jules emphasized, as much for Sam as the cashier.

Once the transaction was completed, they both sat down to wait for their departure. "So…" Sam said, for the sake of breaking the silence between them.

"So," Jules said simply. "Ever been here before?" she asked after a beat.

"I was stationed here at one point before I joined the JTF2," he affirmed.

"Did you like it better?"

Sam shrugged. "Easier to get ahold of things you wanted here than it is in Afghanistan."

"That isn't much of a criterion. What about the job?"

Another shrug. "It was more drills here than actual warfare. _There _I'm getting something done."

"Still doesn't answer my question."

"I'm a sniper. My primary function is to shoot people. It's kind of hard to say I like it. It's just my job."

"Oh. I get that." When he gave her a dubious glance, she explained, "I'm trained as a sniper. I mean, everyone in the SRU cross-trains, but it's usually me or Ed looking through the crosshairs, waiting for the command."

The doubt on his face turned into incredulity. "You ever get the command?"

"My team is pretty damn good, so it's rare that it even gets to that point…but yeah. Once."

He could tell from her tone that it hadn't been a pleasant experience.

"After a while you steel yourself against it," Sam said dully.

Jules shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Maybe people tell themselves that to get through the day, because, as ugly a job as it is, somebody has to do it for everybody else, but I don't think we, as human beings, are designed that way. And then something happens and they can't keep it up anymore."

"It's different in war."

"Maybe…but I thought we were talking about me here?" She didn't say it meanly in case he had something he wanted to get off his chest. Despite her outwardly borderline-hostile attitude toward him, she was curious about him as well.

He made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and she left him to his thoughts, as he suddenly seemed rather pensive.

* * *

><p><strong>On the train, <strong>Sam watched Jules as she peered out the window. He was finding that he liked her more and more as time went on. Beneath that snarky, superhuman façade of hers was an endless well of compassion that he envied. He supposed it wasn't so much her possession of compassion he envied as much as her freedom to express it. Working with civilians, you asked questions first, maybe shot later and only as a last resort. Out in the field you shot and moved on. Questions didn't factor into it so much.

Jules felt his eyes on her but didn't call him out on it. Maybe he needed this vacation even more than she did. More than he was capable of admitting to himself. She felt like she was getting a better handle on him as far as why he was so frustratingly adamant about being her bodyguard of sorts. It was probably the only way his subconscious could justify an excursion out of the desert for a little while. If she were in his shoes, she wouldn't be in a hurry to get back, either.

Sam watched as Jules fell asleep. He thought she was pushing herself, but she had already made it more than clear that that particular opinion would be more unwelcome than any other he might have offered. But that was okay. She couldn't always prevent her from doing small things to ensure her comfort...like keeping her warm while she slept. He got up and went in search of a blanket, and refrained from also seeking out the car with food in it in favor of find a place to sit and eat with Jules after they reached their destination. He unfolding the blanket and gently covered her from the shoulders down, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The fiancé of this little warrior was a lucky man. It hadn't even taken him a week to see why she meant so much to her team.

He blinked, made the conscious decision to stop staring at her, and opened up a magazine.

**A/N: Stay tuned, folks! Next time our budding friends have some fun exploring the city.**


	4. Hello

**A/N: Well, I had one plan for this chapter...which didn't quite come together the way I wanted it to. And I'm still not wholly satisfied with it, but it'll do. I think most authors feel that way about anything they write. It's just a burden we have to bear... Anyway, sorry for the wait!**

* * *

><p><strong>Sam Braddock was sneaky as hell. <strong>That was the conclusion Jules came to a week later as they ended a deceptively busy day by entering their usual café for coffee and a slice of frankfurter krantz. She'd become addicted to the buttercream-filled cake on the first day, but it felt like too much of a caloric indulgence to eat a whole slice by herself even with all the walking she was doing, so she split it with Sam. She hadn't even noticed it had become a thing with them until a sense of déjà vu hit her as she was perusing the café's offerings. She observed that the frankfurter krantz looked good tonight, lamented the fact that it would send her home so heavy it'd be a miracle if the plane were able to get off the ground, and Sam offered, rather gallantly, to share the treat with her. Same routine, new awareness.

When she thought about it, she hadn't even done as much walking as she thought he had. The kicker was she'd enjoyed herself so much that she couldn't really complain. They'd attended an annual film festival (a lot of sitting), a play at The English Theatre (more sitting), ridden a tour bus through the Altstadt, or Old City, District (even _more _sitting)…Yep, there was definitely a trend in the activities he _suggested_. Now, as they were claiming a table, he was talking about the chess rematch she'd supposedly promised him.

"Hold on, right there… I did not _promise _you a rematch. I didn't even offer you a rain check because I was never supposed to see you again."

"And now you have no excuse not to play me again, so it all works out. Unless you're worried you can't beat me again?"

Jules gave him a look that said '_really_?', and then forked a bite of the cake. "You're a real glutton for punishment, Braddock. Either that or you're running out of ideas that keep me from moving around…"

Unbothered by having been found out, Sam scoffed. "Hardly. Although, what would you have said to a day cruise on The Main? I know you like the view from your room…"

"Okay, Braddock? Stop trying to handle me. I'm fine and I'm going to that day of the forest thing tomorrow," she said even as she decided it.

"You mean the wa…" He gestured for her to help him out.

Frowning, she tried to remember the proper name. "Waldche…eh…"

"Waldches…"

"Waldchestag," they said simultaneously, then shared a grin.

"Yeah, that," Sam said, which elicited a chuckle from Jules. "The real _Waldchestag_ is Tuesday, so you might as well go then, and give me my rematch _tomorrow_.

After releasing a long, deliberately drawn-out sigh, Jules agreed. "Fine…you don't seriously think it'll take all day for me to defend my title, do you?"

"What title? You beat me once!"

"That's one more time than you beat me, isn't it?" she gloated, taking another bite of the cake.

Sam leveled a glare her way, then paused with his fork poised over the cake to frown. "You feeling okay?

"Peachy, why?" Jules asked before taking another bite.

"You gave in way too easily… Barely a peep about me practically setting the progress of women's independence back a couple centuries…" he deliberately exaggerated, "not insisting on not only going to the festival tomorrow, but hiking in the woods while you were out there…"

"God, I'm not that bad, am I? On second thought, don't answer that," she hurried to add when she got a look at the incredulous expression on his face. "Okay, so I have a _tiny _headache and don't feel like ripping you a new one tonight. Big deal."

"Yes, big deal…any dizziness? Nausea? Ringing in your ears?"

"I'm _fine_," she stressed. "Just be happy I'm not trying to scale the Berlin wall."

"You mean be happy you're not delirious and trying to scale a wall that isn't there? Trust me… I'm ecstatic. Really." His wisecrack earned him a kick to the shin underneath the table.

"What do you do with yourself when you're not trying to make damsels in distress out of people?" Jules lamented.

"I am not trying to…" He gave up, correctly interpreting her expression to read that he wasn't convincing her, and decided to answer her question instead. "Supposing I wasn't out in the field right now, I'd be beating Matt at chess—

"You and chess!" Jules cut in to tease.

"—or I'd be flipping a coin to see which one of us was playing the wingman tonight."

"Oh, so you're a bit of a ladies' man, huh?" Jules teased him.

He shrugged. "I guess you could say that."

She tilted her head to the side, considering him. "I could see it. Women fawning all over you, tripping over themselves to get you to buy them a drink. Can't see you needing a wingman, though," she added, nudging the plate more towards his side of the table to indicate she was done.

"Makes Matt feel special," he responding in a tone that suggested he was confiding a deep dark secret to her. "What about you? Would _you _want me to buy you a drink?"

It was her turn to shrug. "Well I don't fawn…or trip over my own two feet…but I suppose, in another life, I might be persuaded to allow you to buy me a drink."

Her wording of it made them both grin.

"Hey…I could be your wingman! You wouldn't even have to flip for it."

Sam scoffed. "No thanks."

"No, seriously, think about it. I pretend to be a total bitch that causes a scene and breaks up with you…you score when some chick takes pity on you. Simple, straightforward, easy to pull off.

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

Good question. It'd be nice if he had a good answer for it. If any other friend, he supposed she wouldn't argue that label at this point, had made the same offer, he would have jumped at it. He tried to think of what made her special, and then concluded that it was more about him…and the version of himself that he was with her. The one who could kick back and relax without keeping an ear out for trouble. The one who was just Sam as opposed to General Braddock's distinguished JTF2 officer son. The one who didn't need a quick hookup to help him dismiss his surroundings for a little while. The one, he supposed, who was on vacation.

"I don't need a date," he answered honestly, even if it was an over-simplification. "Let's get you settled in for the night so you can take your pain meds."

"It's just a headache," Jules insisted. "It's already going away."

"Whatever you say…I just know you have something you can take if you're in pain," he returned as he pushed his chair back from the table and stood up.

Jules stood as well and they walked the short distance back to the hotel. All too soon, in Sam's opinion, he was standing alone in his hotel room, kicking off his boots. In all honesty, he felt like he could go all night just sitting around talking to Jules…something he didn't even do with Matt. Speaking of whom, he should be calling to touch bases any minute now. With impeccable timing, the phone on the nightstand rang shrilly. "Hey," Sam answered casually.

"Hey," Matt responded in a tone that made Sam stand to attention. "Have you been watching the news?"

"No, what happened?" Sam asked, looking around for the remote control.

"There was a breakout at the jail. Over a thousand freakin' prisoners escaped, including several hundred Taliban POWs."

Sam cursed under his breath. A swift retaliation was likely to be ordered and damned if he was letting his unit enter the fray without him. "I'll be there ASAP." He hung up and didn't delay in getting his stuff together. He was ready to go in under ten minutes. He was halfway down the hall when he heard a door open behind him.

"Sam?" Jules said uncertainly. He hadn't been particularly quiet in leaving and she'd thought he was just restless and going for a walk. That he might appreciate some company. Was he really just leaving without saying goodbye? The idea of it hurt more than it should.

He slowly turned around, guilt briefly flashing across his face for momentarily forgetting her in his single-mindedness. "I have to go, Jules, I'm sorry."

"Why? What happened? Gimme a sec and I'll get my—

"No. I can't tell you anything and you can't come with me."

Understanding dawned on her face. "You're going back to Afghanistan."

He neither confirmed nor denied her assertion. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Be safe, okay?"

"I keep telling you I can take care of myself," she reminded him, forcing some lightness into her voice even as she wondered whether she'd ever see him again. She probably wouldn't, a prospect she regretted.

He gave a quick nod before raising a hand in farewell.

Jules returned his wave even though it felt like they were already a thousand miles apart as opposed to a few feet. Re-entering her room after he disappeared, she thought about her house and the kitchen cabinets waiting to be replaced. She should probably get back home and take care of that. And the floor. She really wanted to get that tile up and replace it with wooden floorboards. Suddenly she had a whole host of things on her mind that needed tending to back home. Too much for her to be wasting her time with festivals and other touristy attractions.

* * *

><p>"<strong>Sorry about the vacation," <strong>Matt said, falling into step with Sam, who was on his way to their quarters.

Sam shook his head, skipping the pleasantries. "What's happening?"

Accepting that his friend was unswervingly focused on the task at hand, Matt told him "We don't think the Taliban's going to try and hit the base. They made their point at the prison. Sarge says they started a pissing match with NATO, though. Briefing starts in 10. Perfect timing."

Sam scoffed and quickened his step so he could get rid of his bag before joining the rest of his unit in the briefing room. Shortly after that, they were deployed to a mountain town where a highly sought after war criminal was confirmed to be taking refuge.

As stealthy as their approach was, the insurgents had known they were coming and were lying in wait for them. That was the conclusion the unit came to when they noted the sentries posted mainly on the southern border of the town through long-range binoculars. They had been approaching from that direction.

Sam was tasked with leading a team in through the north while the rest of the group, approached as planned. He moved quickly with Matt once again falling in step beside him. This time, though, his friend was just as focused as he was and made no attempt at conversation. They had to be careful as well as quick if they were going to sync up with the rest of the guys in a timely fashion without getting waylaid by a landmine or whatever other nasty safeguards were in place throughout the city.

"It's too quiet," Sam remarked, his voice barely a whisper. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Matt's barely perceptible nod and their quick eyes scanned the dark windows. Deciding it was better to fall back and round the perimeter of the town as opposed to walking through it and getting trapped, Sam signaled for the team to retrace its steps.

They'd gone a few yards when something small and round whizzed through the air from the direction they had been heading in only moments ago. "Grenade!" someone shouted and they all scattered as it exploded.

Sam knew the tactic was meant more to cause panic so his team could be picked off one by one, and snapped out orders meant to keep the team focused while they made their way out of the deathtrap. He radioed his sergeant to inform him of what happened and what they were doing so he didn't lead the rest of the men into danger expecting backup. He heard a cry and saw Matt go down. He ran to his friend, and yanked him up. "Come on, we've gotta go _now_! Shake it off," he ordered as Matt leaned heavily against him, seemingly unable to carry his own weight, when Sam needed his friend to be able to walk on his own two feet.

"I can't, Sam! I can't feel my legs," he gasped.

Dread, cold and bone-numbing, slithered down Sam's spine. "Okay, all right, I'll carry you! The others can cover us."

"Sam…"

"Shut up."

"_Sammy_!"

"I said shut up!" Sam screamed, not about to just leave his best friend there because he was dead weight. They both knew what happened to captured soldiers. That it was worse than death. No, he wasn't leaving him behind to save his own ass.

"You're gonna get everybody else killed, damn it! If I'm going to die anyway, don't make me do it with that on my conscience. Just…do it now. You gotta do it now."

Sam shook his head, dragged Matt along a few yards, ignoring Matt's pleading for him to do what they both knew he had to do. He had to get his team out before they got boxed in if they were going to have a shot. He couldn't leave Matt to be captured.

"Sammy, _please_…"

A sound that was half snarl, half cry of distress erupted from Sam's throat and he stopped walking. The acknowledgement of what he had to do was almost overwhelming. It might have crippled him if he hadn't had other men counting on him for leadership. "I love you, man."

"See you on the other side, Sammy."

* * *

><p><strong>Absent-mindedly fingering the black king <strong>chess piece she'd found among her things when she was getting ready to leave the hotel, Jules pulled her rolling suitcase behind her as she approached the pick-up/drop-off area. As good as it felt to be back on her own turf, she was kind of already missing Germany. She wondered what Sam was doing…if he'd noticed his chess set was now incomplete…if he was _safe_. More than anything, she wondered if he was safe. She hoped he was. Even though she'd probably never see him again, the world was a better place for having Sam Braddock in it. Even if he was a pain in the ass.

"Julianna!"

Brought out of her reverie by the sound of her own name, Jules slipped the chess piece into her pocket, almost feeling guilty for some undefinable reason, and looked around for the source of the call. She rose on her tiptoes to see over a group of people walking across her line of vision and saw Steve waving to her. Grinning as she waved back, she dropped back down so her feet were planted on the ground and made her way over to where he was waiting by his car. "Hey," she greeted him happily as he leaned down to kiss her.

"God, I missed you!" he said when he lifted his head. "I want to hear everything."

"Everything?" she checked as he opened the door for her. She didn't particularly want to rehash what happened in the desert.

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. How was your _vacation_? What'd you see? What'd you do?"

"You know, I am _so _jetlagged? I really want to crawl into bed and sleep for a little while. How's about you drop me off at home and we pick this up over dinner tomorrow?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. Now get in the car," he urged with a tilt of his head.

"Roger that," she laughed, sitting down so he could close the door.


	5. Shake It Off

**A/N: So, in thinking about moving Sam into the SRU, I realized I had to tread carefully lest I strayed into stalker territory. Hopefully this chapter averts that crisis. It's just a few key moments that happen between this chapter and the next. Anyway enjoy!**

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><p><strong>It was always the shoes. <strong>No matter what else happened in his dreams or who featured the most prominently in them. It was always the shoes that had him waking up in a cold sweat. The sandals. The kind that little girls could slip right onto or off their feet without worrying about the hassle of buckles. The sandals that, no matter what else was going on or where he thought he was, appeared to be sitting abandoned on a sun-drenched pavement marred by the markings of tire treads.

Sam turned his head toward the shadowy lump that was his sleeping bunkmate, relieved that he hadn't woken the other man tonight. Tom wasn't the lightest sleeper, but Sam wasn't always quiet when his dreams haunted the nighttime hours. Sam wasn't afraid of irritating him. Tom understood and even had trouble sleeping himself at times. He just didn't want anyone trying to pry into thoughts he barely understood himself.

_Why _the shoes? Why not Matt? Why not one of the other atrocities of war? Why the damn shoes? He'd thought he'd made his peace with Abby's death. He'd enlisted. He'd done things that lent themselves to making the world a better, safer place for so many people. Touched the lives of thousands of people he'd never even _meet_.

He'd done so much good.

He couldn't save the people who mattered most to him. The people who were right there, in his face, needing him not to prevent some bad thing that _could _happen if he didn't act, but to save them from the bad that was happening _at the moment_.

"_We're there for people at the worst moment of their lives…"_

The words floated into his consciousness from somewhere he couldn't immediately place. Then he remembered…

-Flashback-

"_Can I ask you something?" Sam asked as they strolled through one of Frankfurt's many parks._

"_Shoot," Jules permitted, clearly trying to pretend she didn't need a break and that she was only stopping because of him. She even managed to look exasperated._

"_You mentioned in passing that you worked really hard to earn a spot on Team One, even though they choose their own teammates so it all would've been for nothing if they hadn't liked you."_

"_I missed the question…," she prompted. "Although," she went on to interject, "not liking me wasn't a possibility."_

"_What made it worth it? It's not like there's any real room for advancement. I mean, you're all constables, right?"_

"_Except for Sarge," she confirmed. "Team One is the best team in the SRU."_

"_That's not what I meant… Why the SRU? Or at least, why not aim for something better? Not that it's…"_

"_No, I know what you mean…" she sighed and he watched her face while she worked out a concise response. "We save lives. Not just that, but we're there for people at the worst moment of those lives, pulling them back from the brink. It's intense, because we have to get in there and connect with these people empathize with them, but the feeling you get when everyone walks out alive?" The look on her face said it all._

-End Flashback-

Suddenly it hit him. He knew, or at least he _thought _he knew what he needed.

* * *

><p>"<strong>Tell me you're joking."<strong>

Sam refrained from rolling his eyes. One never _ever _rolled his eyes at the general. Even when he asked a dumb question. When had he ever joked with his father? "I'm serious, sir. I want to leave the army."

"I heard what you said… I was giving you a chance to take it back! Do you know how it makes me look if you do this? Is this about that incident with your unit? Newsflash, they _happen_. You're a soldier. You know this."

Sam maintained a stony silence this time, as he didn't appreciate his father's condescending attitude. He knew that the general hadn't gotten to where he was without learning for himself that these things didn't _just happen_. However, what was driving the older man right then was pride. He had fully expected Sam to follow in his oversized footsteps and he wasn't a man who suffered disappointment gracefully. Not from the people who served under him and not from his family. He thought of his sister, Natalie, who was still in the doghouse after that fiasco in Mexico, and how she would once again be elevated to golden child status after this.

"Go back. Be with your troop. Keep piling on the commendations. Prove you're _my son_."

This was the part where Sam was supposed to concede and walk out with his tail between his legs. Pretend this conversation never happened. The general had laid down the law. Sam knew that, no matter what he said, his father would lose some respect for him if he had come here uncertain enough to be so easily swayed. Almost as much as he would lose some of his own self-respect. Basically, it was a lose-lose situation. "I want to join the Special Response Unit in Toronto. They do good work and I think I'd be able to use my skills there," he stated unequivocally.

And so began a silent battle of wills. Blue eyes challenged gray. Sam needed his father to call in some favors to get him honorably discharged as well as cutting through any red tape where the SRU was concerned. General Braddock wanted his son to be a good soldier and fall in line. Both men stared at each other unflinchingly as though they had all the time in the world when, in reality, they only had had until dinnertime. The general's wife might not be a soldier herself, but she ran a tight ship when it came to dinner. If you were eating it under her roof, you were eating it at her table at seven o'clock sharp. That still gave them a good two hours.

Finally, without a single change in his expression to betray his thoughts, the general stated evenly, "I hear Team 5's sergeant is talking about retirement."

"I don't want to be a sergeant."

Confusion flickered in the older man's eyes. "Then what…?"

"I want to be on Team One. Under Greg Parker."

And so resumed the staring contest.

"Why the hell not sergeant?"

Sam just waited for his father to sort it all out for himself. Cops played by a different set of rules and before he could even think about leading anybody, he needed to learn how to play by them. Then again, he had to wonder if his father had even maintained the level of humility necessary to think along those lines… He discarded the concern, deciding logic would fill in the blanks.

"I'll see what I can do." The concession was made with a distinct lack of grace that had Sam vowing silently that it would be another blue moon before he asked his father for another favor. It wasn't as though he asked all that often, anyway. It was no secret in his house that he was expected to soldier up and make his own luck without a helping hand from the man who now sat across the broad desk from him.

* * *

><p>"<strong>So…you goin' for it?" <strong>Jules asked as she and Rolie worked side by side in the cage cleaning weapons. She'd been itching to get him alone to ask ever since Commander Halderane had made a brief, but sincere suggestion that Rolie put in for sergeant.

"I think maybe I am… I mean, when the commander suggests you put your name in the hat… I don't know, I just feel like this is supposed to be Ed's moment."

Jules scoffed. "Ed isn't going anywhere. Even if his being on leave weren't giving you your time in the team leader spotlight, he'd never leave Sarge. Or Team One. Besides, my friend, I think the commander knows something we don't. Maybe the people higher up a really liking you for sergeant."

It was Rolie's turn to scoff. "You don't know how many people _he _knows that would make a good sergeant."

"Yeah, but _you_ would make a great one," she retorted, nudging him non-too-gently. "Besides, if you hurry and go, it'd just be Wordy I have to beat out for a turn as team leader. Not even worried about Spike and Lewis," she boasted.

"What about Spike and Lewis?" Spike asked from the doorway.

"Did I hear something about Spike and Lewis being phenomenally amazing?" Lew asked as he walked by the room behind Spike.

"Must've been something along those lines," Spike concluded.

"More like how they're gonna hate the shooting practice I'm cooking up!" Jules retorted.

Spike's groan trailed after him as he followed Lew and Rolie grinned. "Now you're going to have to come up with a real killer."

"I already have. I'd like to see _Ed_ get a hundred percent on it."

Jules grinned mischievously.

Rolie gulped.

"Seriously, though, if you want the promotion, go for it. This kind of opportunity doesn't come along often."

"You trying to get rid of me, Callaghan?"

"What gave me away?" she deadpanned. She didn't really want him to go. He was part of the family and one never wanted to break up a family…but she wasn't about to discourage him, either. She knew he was ready and she wanted _him _to know he had her full support. Besides, it wasn't as if he was possibly going somewhere far away and she'd never see him again. He'd just be on one of the losing teams during training exercises.

"Now what's _that _smirk for?"

"Drywall," she lied innocently.


	6. Second Place Victory

**A/N: Remember when I supposed Rolie probably deserved his promotion? Changed my mind. Woman's prerogative and all that. And Twitter.**

**Anyway, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and alerts, and also for reading. Do you know how cool it is to know people from all over the world have read what you wrote? Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and not so small.**

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><p>To say Jules Callaghan was pissed would be an understatement. The whole situation could have gone so far sideways it wasn't even funny…and all because Rolie couldn't hold the perimeter when faced with <em>one <em>kid. Yes, that kid was a desperate son, but he was one person and Rolie _knew _how volatile the situation was. He should have sat on him if that was what it took to keep him out of the line of fire. The father was a loose cannon. Sage couldn't talk him down because he couldn't _understand _him. The son was too distraught to be of much help. Ed had just been waiting for the order while Sarge went through the motions at that point. All Rolie had to do was control that kid. Now the kid, Petar, was probably traumatized from feeling the bullet rip past him on its way into his father's head. Ed was traumatized because he could have _killed _Petar. And, as if the wrongness of _that_ mistake wouldn't have been enough, his father had already a code red. He would have gone _berserk_.

_Breathe. Cool down. _She focused on her task. Breaking down her rife for storage in the back of the SUV. Boy was she _not _looking forward to the debriefing. She'd love to hear Rolie's excuse as to how a civilian got the drop on a member of the SRU. She _really _couldn't wait to—

"You don't see lady snipers that often. That's kinda sexy," a somewhat familiar male voice remarked _way _too close behind her, causing her to abandon her task and place her hand on the sidearm holstered on her thigh as she turned around. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Sam?" Her voice held wariness as well as surprise. She had neither seen nor heard from him since the night he'd up and left her in Germany. She hadn't _expected_ to, either…so what was he doing there now?

She flicked her gaze toward her teammates, who were standing a few feet away. Catching Spike's eye, she gave a barely perceptible nod, and then she calmly asked Sam, "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to get a feel for the team. Not trying to step on anybody's toes or anything," he said with an easy grin. He tilted his head, looking past Jules into the back of the SUV. "What's that, a Remy 700? Classic. I carry a pearl grip, myself. Wanna see?"

He reached into his inner jacket pocket only to freeze in shock when Jules raised her sidearm and shouted, "Put your hands where I can see them! Hands where I can see them!" A chorus of male voices joined hers, startling Sam, who'd expected a welcome a few degrees warmer than he was receiving. He obeyed, raising his hands, photo in the hand he retracted from his pocket.

"Lower your weapons," Commander Holleran barked, hurrying over to the group. "_Lower your weapons_," he repeated when the team was slow to comply.

Sam flicked the folded photo open. "Pearl grip. See…?" he asked cautiously.

Jules stared at him stonily as the commander said reprovingly, "Braddock, your orders were to report directly to HQ."

"Sorry, Sir. I heard about what was happening on the radio and I didn't want to miss it." He was frowning at Team One. He knew he was the new guy and all, but geeze… They acted like he was a hostile target or something.

"Good work, Team One. Team Three will relieve you. SIU needs witness statements and you need to see Luria for a debriefing. Braddock, come with me." He gestured for Sam to follow him before walking away.

"Nice post-incident reflexes, guys," Sam remarked before heading off after the commander. "See you later."

Jules' weren't the only suspicious pair of eyes that tracked the pair across the street. "Didn't we leave the army Ken doll in the desert?" Lew asked.

"Uh…that's the _JTF2_ Ken doll, to you, and yeah, I'm pretty sure _we _did. _Jules _left him in Germany, though…" Spike corrected. "Something we should know about, Jules?"

Jules returned her teammates' looks of interested curiosity with one of disdain. "_Really _guys?" When not one speculative facial expression changed, she added an emphatic, "_No_. I have no clue what the hell he's doing here." She wasn't sure what to think about his sudden reappearance in her life. To say it weirded her out was an understatement. It'd been what? Four months? Five? And he just happened to show up at a crime scene out of curiosity? And left with her boss's boss? She'd have to get Sarge to ask the commander about it later because something was _so_ off with this picture.

* * *

><p>That evening, Jules was trying not to be too obvious in her surveillance of the parking lot. She was waiting for Ed and Wordy to show up to the party. They were late because of Ed's SIU inquisition. She wanted to get a moment alone with Ed after monitoring his reaction to nearly hitting the subject's son earlier, because she knew acknowledging the incident in front of the others would dent his pride.<p>

When her teammates finally showed up, Jules stood to attention. She gave Wordy a nod, and then placed a light hand on Ed's arm in a silent request for him to slow-up. "Hey. Code of silence been lifted?" At his nod, she asked, "So how'd it go?"

"The way they do." Code for the 'whole process was a tedious pain in the ass'.

"Are you good?"

"Yeah, I'm good," he responded wearily, almost automatically, as though his mind were elsewhere.

"Hey, Ed? Hey," she made a determined bid for his full attention.

"Yeah?" He stopped to look at her.

"Listen, I saw you up there. It was a clean shot." She'd seen it. She believed it. She just wanted to make it clear that, whatever was going through his head, she had his back and believed in him.

"I know it was."

"Do you _really_? Cause that guy knew what he had coming to him. I mean, he…"

"Had his gun pointed at our guys, yeah I know. I'm good." He patted her on the shoulder as they approached the table that had been claimed by Team One.

"Mr. Lane!" the retiree on stage called him out, raising the bottle in his hand. "You better have an outstanding reason for being late!" he razzed to the applause of the officers gathered for his retirement party.

Jules turned her attention to her boss as soon as she was seated. "Hey, Sarge? You remember Sam Braddock?"

"The Ken doll," Lew clarified in case he didn't.

"The _JTF2_ Ken doll," Spike expounded.

"Ugh, would you guys zip it?" Jules snapped as the pair snickered.

"Funny you should ask that…" Sarge started only to be interrupted by the commander's arrival. And Sam's.

"Nice work today, Team One! I think this is a good time to do this properly. This is Sam Braddock."

"We've met, briefly," Ed cut in. "Remember that trip to Kandahar we took?" he added by way of explanation.

"Well, good then… because he is your newest team member. He took his baby steps at 51st Division before he went army, and he's coming to us straight out of JTF2."

Eyebrows went up around the table as the commander completed his introduction. This wasn't at all how they usually ended up with a new team member. Actually, they didn't usually 'end up' with team members. They _chose _them. However, despite the unusual circumstances, nobody questioned it. It wasn't their place to. Still, there was still one technicality and Jules clung to it.

"The team's full, isn't it?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she kept her eyes on the commander and off of Sam, whom she could feel staring at her. It _was_ full. They had seven spots with no vacancies.

"Actually…Rolie? Your application's been approved. You're being fast-tracked for sergeant."

As the rest of the team started congratulating Rolie, Jules shot a glance Sam's way, and caught his barely-there smirk. As far as she was concerned, this whole thing reeked. He was suddenly ready for a change of scenery right when there was a sudden opening in her team that she didn't even know about? Okay, so she knew Rolie had applied for a promotion. However, not even _he _seemed to know he'd gotten it, and Sam Braddock just swooped in like a bird of prey and snatched his spot. When she caught herself wishing she hadn't encouraged Rolie to apply for the promotion, she forced herself to join in on congratulating her teammate. Even if he _had_ screwed up that day. This was now _his _night and she was going to be happy for him. She'd deal with the lost puppy from the desert, later.

The 'lost puppy' pulled up a chair beside her as the commander offered to buy them all a round of drinks. "Hey, Jules. Long time, no see."

"Yep," she agreed uninterestedly.

"So, how've you been?"

"Fine."

Sam stared at her, trying to puzzle out why she was acting so standoffish. They _had _worked their way into the friend-zone, hadn't they? At least she'd stopped trying to get rid of him by the time he left. Now she was calling in the firing squad on him and giving him the cold shoulder. He turned his attention to deflecting questions from his new teammates about what had prompted the 'downgrade' in jobs.

Jules felt her phone vibrate and checked the caller ID. Seeing Steve's name, she excused herself before rising from the table. She went outside so she could hear him properly when she answered her phone. "Hey, Steve. What's up?"

"I was calling to see if you were still at the party. If you need a ride home, I can swing by after shift."

"Well, I'm good. Drove myself today. Thanks for checking, though."

"No problem. We still on for tomorrow?"

"Dinner with your parents. Yep," she confirmed. "How's your dad doing?"

"He's doing great. Saw him yesterday. You wouldn't even think he was the same man who had a heart attack a few months ago. Oh, and fair warning, he's going to be pushing us to set another wedding date."

Jules grimaced as she dragged the toe of her tennis shoe along a crack in the pavement. Considering the fact that her team had just been saddled with a new member, she didn't particularly want to think about wedding plans at the present. "We'll figure it out. I should get back in there before they eat all the cake. Love you."

"Love you, too. See you tomorrow."

She disconnected the call and was slipping her phone back into her pocket when she heard the door open behind her.

"Jules can we talk for a sec?"

She turned around to look at Sam. "About what?"

"Look, I didn't realize you guys didn't know I was joining the team…"

"Well, now we do. Anything else?"

"Is my being here a problem for you or something?" Sam probed.

"Depends, Braddock, you plan on making yourself a problem?"

"I don't follow…"

"Oh really? You follow me from Kandahar to Frankfurt—"

"Which we got past," Sam broke in.

"And now you follow me halfway around the world to elbow your way onto my team. I'm going to nip any little scenarios you have playing out in that head of yours in the bud now. If you set even a toe out of line, so help me—"

"Whoa. Let me just…stop you right there. I am not _stalking _you. Did I decide this was where I wanted to be because of you? Yeah. But I'm not here _for _you."

Jules' chin went up and her eyes narrowed. "What's the difference?"

"The difference is I'm here for me. This is just where I feel like I need to be."

As his gaze dropped, Jules' head tilted to the side. He seemed sincere, which made her more curious than hostile. "You don't feel like you're needed on the warfront, anymore? Don't tell me you missed the Waldenstag for nothing," she added when he didn't respond.

"I can honestly say I wish I'd gone with you."

She had to lean in to catch all the words because he'd spoken so softly. He was starting to seem more like a kicked puppy than a lost one. She sighed inwardly and hoped she wouldn't regret taking pity on him. "Look, I'm gonna take you at your word here…so let's try one more time to get this right."

He looked at her questioningly as she took a deep breath and put on a big smile. "Sam? Sam Braddock? What are you doing here? I haven't since you since…wow not since that trip to Germany we took together."

"Hey…Jules…" he responded hesitantly. "I don't know if anybody told you, but I'm joining your team in the SRU."

"Get outta here… Seriously? So weird. See, usually, _we _pick our team members."

"Well, a little birdy told me you were the best, so…"

"Oh, are you referring to that time when I was tootin' my own horn? Yeah, I remember that. Still holds true. Why don't we head inside and you can buy the team the next round?"

"Sure. We can drink to that wedding I missed, Mrs….Morgan, was it?"

"Actually…"

"Hey, you guys are about to miss Sarge's toast," Spike stuck his head outside to interrupt.

"After you…" Sam let Jules walk inside ahead of him and found himself catching the door Spike had left to swing closed on him while he himself followed Jules back to the table. "Well okay, then…" he muttered under his breath as laughter reached his ears.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Next chapter, the team rolls out the welcome mat...somewhere Sam can't see it haha. Yeah, I'm chuckling at my own joke. It's been a long day.**


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